Dreaming of a white Christmas
by Darial Goldscythe Kuznetsova
Summary: What if Hojo hadn't gone bonkers? What if Lucrecia hadn't felt guilty for causing Grimoire's death? Advent calendar entry.


**Title: **Dreaming of a White Christmas**  
Author(s): **DK**  
Keyword: **no keyword**  
Rating: **G**  
Pairing: **Vincent/Lucrecia**  
Disclaimer: **I do not own the characters nor the world, they are property of Square-Enix. I am making no money with this, this piece of cutesy fiction is for entertainment purposes only.**  
Warnings: **Cute stuff and what ifs**  
Summary: **What if the mad scientist hadn't gone totally bonkers and a certain lady had gotten over her guilt? What if the child she had had been Vincent's?**  
A/N: **It was December all of a sudden. Had to come up with something.

* * *

He sat by the window, watching the love of his life play with their small boy. It was December and Yule was closing in fast. Too slowly, as their four-year-old had claimed in the breakfast table. He was such a gorgeous boy. Dark hair much like his mother had, purplish blue eyes with some sort of cat effect. At least it seemed so to Vincent, since every time the boy wasn't going to get what he wanted, his eyes were all watery and broke everyone's hard shell. He smiled as he followed Lucrecia climb with him on top of their mighty snow fortress with his sleigh, only to come down like an avalanche of powder snow and delighted screams and laughter.

He was still a Turk. Nobody quit the Turks and lived. Thankfully, they still thought he was on a mission. Professor Hojo was dead though. He had been attacked by Nibel wolves, the creatures Vincent had never before been more grateful of. The walking mass of complexes had been suggesting that she was used as a test subject, which resulted at them both drawing guns at each other. After Hojo had shot Vincent, she had told him to get out and that was when the wolves got their dinner.

Lucrecia was waving at him, beckoning him to come outside and play too. Four years... He never knew when the Turks would need him back and there was never a guarantee that he would actually come back. With a heavy sigh he got up and went to dress up for the harsh Nibelheim winter.

Face full of frosty air almost made him head back inside, but the child's laughter steeled his decision and he scooped up the boy when he ran to him.

"Woah, Seph, you are getting heavier every day, I bet mama's Yule-foods are getting to you."

"Papa, I'm not fat!" the boy protested immediately.

"He never said you were, darling, he meant you have grown," Lucrecia smoothed her son's ruffled feathers and pulled the ski cap deeper onto his head. "Did you finish the decorations for today?"

"No."

They had already started to decorate the Shinra Mansion for Christmas, bit by bit. All the coworkers were happy to oblige and they simply adored Sephiroth. Family of snow angels was done and some form of snow war, mostly with Vincent not even trying to hit them. Once they were all wet and soon shivering, they headed back inside, to warm up and Vincent decided to give it a try at the grand piano he was learning how to play, he stole several glances at his family. Lucrecia looked so happy, her smile lit up her eyes properly as she was trying to get the wet outer clothes off of Seph, who was squirming.

He felt proud of that boy they made. She had seen nightmares of what he would have turned out like if Hojo had gotten his hands on him. The four-year-old was older than his years and was rather quiet and focused, much like both of them and Lucrecia's coworkers called him Mini-Vincent. Cheeks apple red from the cold, the said boy grinned at him and once he was free of his winter clothes, ran to him with a squeal.

"I love you both so much..."

* * *

"I have never seen a person smile in his sleep, while they sleep alone. Not that I mind though, but I do wish that was directed to me, Vincent Valentine," a small female voice said and Vincent forced his eyes open. Besides his window at the 7th Heaven, by the Christmas lights sat a tiny figure, watching the torrents of rain fall down against the glass. It was 1st of December.

"Shelke..."


End file.
